Do you know that one?"
His visitor did not answer. After a moment he swung himself from the workbench and turned toward the door.
"'He either fears his fate too much,'" he quoted, gloomily. "Humph! I wonder if it ever occurred to that chap that there might be certain kinds of fate that COULDN'T be feared too much? . . . Well, so long, Jed. Ah hum, you don't know where I can get hold of some money, do you?"
Jed was surprised. "Humph!" he grunted. "I should say you HAD hold of money two-thirds of every day. Feller that works in a bank is supposed to handle some cash."
"Yes, of course," with an impatient laugh, "but that is somebody else's money, not mine. I want to get some of my own."
"Sho! . . . Well, I cal'late I could let you have ten or twenty dollars right now, if that would be any help to you."
"It wouldn't; thank you just the same. If it was five hundred instead of ten, why—perhaps I shouldn't say no."
Jed was startled.
"Five hundred?" he repeated. "Five hundred dollars? Do you need all that so very bad, Charlie?"
Phillips, his foot upon the threshold of the outer shop, turned and looked at him.